Seemingly Simple
by artemissan09
Summary: MMHG. AU. Hermione's life is seemingly simple, but what happens when her feelings start to complicate her world?
1. Prelude to Disaster

Seemingly Simple

**Seemingly Simple**

**Ch.1 **

**Prelude to Disaster**

**A/N: I know, I know, I am the most sporadic author on to ever exist. But a wise English teacher of mine said that our best writing comes from the heart, and I cannot force myself otherwise. To do so would be settling for less than my best. This is a new MMHG fic of mine, and I hope that everyone likes it! Do remember to leave feedback, questions, and comments. I love to hear from all of you, and it makes me smile when I hear that I have given someone else something they could enjoy!**

The soft drops of rain cling to the windows of my small flat as I pour myself a cup of hot tea. It is a dreary, rotten day that promises to see not a drop of sunshine. These days I usually coup up near the fire, quill in hand, and continue on with my new book on Transfiguration.

This day is no different, and as I set my tea on a nearby table I settle into my couch, face the fire, and begin where I last left off.

_The next and possibly most advanced form of Transfiguration is the art of the Animangus. Many witches and wizards_

I stop right as I introduce the quill to the parchment. My heart skips a beat for the second time this week, and for the same reason. It is unreal, that such a moment should bring me into such a distraught state, but despite my best efforts against it, I find myself panicked. It is now Saturday evening, and Minerva McGonagall has been haunting my thoughts since Monday afternoon.

'I shall never get farther in this book,' I think to myself as I set my work aside and walk past the kitchen to make my way to the bathroom. But as I pass the refrigerator, something outside the window above my sink catches the corner of my eye. There is a cat outside, frantically pawing at the window in hopes to escape from the rain. I have never seen this cat around here, but I decide a wet cat is a bad cat. I go to the window and raise the pane. The cat bolts inside and rushes toward the fire. I look on, one eyebrow raised skeptically to my hair line.

'There is something terribly familiar about you.' I shake off the déjà vu and instead continue on my way to my bathroom. I need a hot bath. The chill of the rain outside has left an icy thought throughout my body. I step into the room and draw the water from the tap. Within minutes the room is steamy and clouded. 'Good, maybe I can lose my thoughts in here for a while,' I think as I let a little Lavender scent into the water. As I begin to remove my clothing, the smell really hits me and immediately I freeze.

Her.

'Hermione Jane, you will stop this instant! Get these ludicrous ideas out of your head! It will never come to anything.' So much for losing my thoughts.

I somehow manage to get out of the rest of my clothes without any further flashbacks. I step into the tub and flinch. My feet are cold and bare, and the water is particularly hot. But I manage to get used to it and I slowly start to sink into the water. As I sink below the surface, my troubles of this last week begin to melt away. I become so relaxed and sedated by the heat and steam that it is almost arousing. I know I really shouldn't, but I haven't had company of any sort in over four years.

Releasing myself of any inhibitions, my hands slowly start to roam over my body until they find my full breasts.

I close my eyes to revel in the simple pleasure, but they open wide when her hands flash across my mind. Calming myself back out of a semi-hysteric state, I decide that I can no longer bring her out of my system. Giving into every savage feeling in my body, my hands again start to roam, completely intoxicated by the fact that they are not empowered by me, but fueled by the thought of that goddess with raven hair.

Their pace begins to quicken when I find my core holds more need then I could imagine. My hand finds my aching centre as the other wantonly grasps a taught nipple. Her face, her hands, her mouth, all consume me, and I welcome them as a tremendous wave comes over me. My whole body wracks with pleasure as her name rolls off my lips.

When it all becomes too much, I slowly come down from my sinful high and reality starts to cloud me. As I soak for a few moments, regaining a steady breath and wiping the sweat and steam from my brow, a dark shape startles me so much that I cannot scream. There is the cat, perched upon the side of the tub, studying my face eerily. 'No, Hermione, cats don't study people from post-orgasmic states! How silly!' I try to talk myself down, but the look in the cats' eyes tells me a different story. As it realizes that I am staring back, it bolts from its curious state and makes for somewhere else.

It is at that moment that I, Hermione Jane Granger, realize that I must arrange a visit.


	2. Overture of Disaster

**Seemingly Simple**

**Ch.2**

**Overture of Disaster**

**A/N: I know some of you have pictures of Winter rolling through your minds, but believe you me, this fic is about to take a wicked turn…Thanks for all your concerns and comments, and as always, happy readings!**

Such a visit would have to wait, however. Hermione put on her favorite robe and headed back for her cozy spot on the couch. As she glanced down at her work (or lack there of) she realized she really needed to focus. She picked up her quill hesitantly and finished her sentence about animagi.

She wanted dearly to move on, but indeed her mind continued to wander. Trying desperately to get back into her work, she picked up a book she had written after interviewing several Animangus witches and wizards about six years ago. As she flipped through the index of names in the back: Ebony, Mark; Eccleston, Athena; Emerson, Joel, she stopped. _pg. 157_

Joel Emerson had been quite an…interesting…person to interview. He had quite the frazzled, white, bush of hair that reminded Hermione of a wiry cotton ball shocked by electricity. His robes were just about every color you could imagine, and Hermione could have sworn he was wearing women's cologne. Never the less, they went on with their interview, where Hermione learned that his Animagus form was an Orangutan. 'How fitting.' She remembered being her first thought.

As she tried to continue, the cat decided to make yet another appearance. This time it pounced upon the book and refused to move. "Aren't you just the queerest cat," I said to it as if it would respond. Deciding that no work would be done, I tossed the book aside and whispered, "Are you hungry?" The cat rubbed itself lovingly into my palm and I scratched it gently under its chin. "I'll take that as a yes." I don't know why I have taken to the cat so, but something about it just makes me smile.

We make our way into the kitchen and I sit out some warm milk on the counter nearest the sink. The cat curls up its tail and laps at the milk, purring all the while…

* * *

Several months later, the summer rain has stopped, but I have kept the cat. We have become quite close, and I often find myself spilling my deepest feelings for Minerva to it. It doesn't seem to mind, and I can sometimes swear that the cat smiles when we have such talks.

As my mind wanders to Minerva, I am sharply reminded that September the first is drawing deathly close. I received a letter from Albus not too long ago stating that Mrs. Irma Pince had a tragic accident while arranging some books in the library in early August. He apologized sincerely for such a lat notice, but he was in a bind. As a friend, there was no thinking to it. And besides, maybe the library would offer a peaceful place to get some work done…

My decision, I tell myself over and over, had absolutely nothing to do with my recent obsession with Minerva McGonagall and my need to see her…

What a sad lie.

Never the less, I am telling myself that I am doing an old friend a huge favor and that is the end of it. I am taking my new friend with me. It just seems odd to leave such a companion at home. Crookshanks hasn't seen me in nine years, as I left him to Minerva when I left. I couldn't take him from Hogwarts, the place he had come to know as home. But in truth, I really couldn't stand the thought of Minerva without something to remember me by… 'Oh come off it, Hermione! This is getting far too far out of hand!'

I just can't get that woman out of my head. Sighing in frustration, I head to my bedroom to pack for my stay. After all, it is August the 28, and I leave in less than a week. As I start throwing things from my wardrobe and drawer into my trunk, I hear a soft meow and I turn to see the cat, sitting with the most risqué lingerie knickers I own in its mouth!

"Now what use would I have for these things!?" I scream as I yank the panties from the cat. The cat tilts its head as if to say, 'Isn't it obvious?' And as I glance back down to the garment in my hand, I shrug my shoulders and throw them into my trunk.

In my mind an overture of disaster starts to reel as I realize I am about to make the biggest mistake of my life.


End file.
